


The Hardest Cases

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 23:33:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4368581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly has to autopsy a child who was murdered, and she decides enough is enough. But Sherlock is able to convince her that, while it's a hard part of the job, it's also a part where she can do a lot of good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hardest Cases

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sherlolly2015](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlolly2015/gifts).



> So this is a rather sad fic, as that was part of the request from **Sherlolly2015** ( _Can you do an angsty one shot prompt when Molly is just done with life, with everything? Maybe some deaths caused her sadness? Anyways, she's stoic and shields her feelings, but Sherlock obviously figures her out and tries to comfort her, but she pushes him away AT FIRST. Angsty but fluffy and happy ending please_ ). I don't know if the ending is quite as fluffy as they wanted but I tried.

No one in law enforcement was happy to deal with the death of a child. Not anywhere in the entire world did any person enjoy a case of any sort when a child died. And for Molly the hardest of those cases were when it wasn’t apparent at first that it was foul play. No, the ones where it was a suspicious death, and it came out during the course of her autopsy…those were the types of cases where she regretted going into this career.

She couldn’t let the heaviness of her heart weigh her down, though. That was just one of the many autopsies she had to perform today, and as soon as she’d informed Dimmock of the details of the case she moved right on to the next case, trying to ignore the images of the little girl in her mind. She tried so hard not to imagine that it could have been _her_ daughter on the table and someone would have to come and tell _her_ that she’d been…

 _No, Molly, no. You can’t think it. You can’t. You have to focus,_ her internal voice said, trying to get her to continue to work. But she just couldn’t. The little girl…she’d been poisoned, most likely by someone close to her, most likely over time. Someone had destroyed the little girl’s life, and for what reason? To snuff out a life? To get some attention? To control her? Why on _earth_ would someone do that?

She tried to make an incision in her newest body but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t, and so she took the body back to the refrigeration unit and stowed him away and went to her office. She couldn’t do this anymore, she just couldn’t. She opened up the word processing program on her computer and stared at it, trying to figure out how to begin her letter of resignation.

The doors to the morgue opened up and she heard him speak as he walked in. “I need the results you have on the body found by the Thames, Molly,” Sherlock was saying before he stopped.”Molly?”

“In the office,” she called out, typing out “To whom it may concern” on the empty page.

He came into the office and looked at her. “If you’re writing up my report you can just tell me,” he said.

“I haven’t even touched that victim yet,” she said, not turning to look at him and instead chewing on her bottom lip as she tried to figure out how to say that she appreciated what she had learned in her time at St. Bart’s. “I doubt it will be taken care of today.”

“Was there a serial killer I wasn’t aware of?” he asked.

“No. I’m resigning,” she said, putting her fingers to the keys and beginning to type. "Please, Sherlock, just leave me alone for a bit, all right?"

He stayed quiet for a few minutes. He studied her quietly and then made his way further in. “A case got to you,” he said quietly. “And I know you have seen many things, things that would make people feel uncomfortable with the grossness of it, so it isn’t something disgusting. Which means it’s something else. Something that struck close to home.” He had moved behind her now, and she was afraid if he put a hand on her she’d break down and start sobbing. “Was there someone who reminded you of your father? Or your mother?”

“No,” she said quietly, trying so hard to concentrate on the letter.

“A friend, perhaps?” he asked. “Or…me?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head.

Then it dawned on him. “The little girl that the detective inspectors were talking about in hushed tones when I saw Lestrade today. You did her autopsy.”

Molly nodded and then hung her head. “Yes,” she said. “Sherlock…she was poisoned. Someone intentionally fed her poison and killed her. They did it on _purpose_. They ended her life and she was so _young_ and…”

He knelt down in front of her chair and pulled her close, and she wrapped her arms around him. It felt good to be held, especially by him, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck and cried for the little girl and the life she wouldn’t get to live and the pain she must have felt. She cried as he rubbed her back and kept her close, and soon she began to feel the sadness ease. “Do you feel better?” he asked when the sobbing subsided.

“Yes,” she said. “I really should have had someone else handle that autopsy, though. I just…I’m not…”

“But just think,” Sherlock said. “She had the best pathologist in London looking into the circumstances behind her death. No one would care more to find out what happened to her than you would. And even though it was hard, I’m sure you gave Dimmock every single clue he needed to apprehend the person responsible for it. You gave her a voice when hers was taken away.” When she pulled away he looked at her and then moved his hand slightly to her abdomen, placing it on the small baby bump that was there. “Perhaps your superiors won’t mind if you take the rest of the day off for personal reasons.”

Molly used the back of her hand to brush away the last of her tears. “But what about your case?”

“I think I would much rather spend at least a few hours comforting my wife and making sure she’s all right than spend it on solving the case,” he said. “And besides, Ackerman is competent enough. You can see if your superiors can call him in to work today and I’ll ask him to do the autopsy in your stead. I can trust he’ll do a decent enough job.” He moved his hand up to tilt her chin up. “You are my primary concern right now.”

“Oh, Sherlock,” she said, wrapping her arms around him again. "Thank you." He pulled her off the seat and held her close, and she took comfort in being there with him and letting the words he had said permeate her brain. It was always a sad thing when a child died, especially when it was not by natural causes, but when she could give them a voice at least maybe then she could help give them peace, and that was a very good thing for her to do.


End file.
